


Midnight

by NinetyFiveFathoms



Category: Scrubs (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Kelsox, M/M, which is to say a little hurt and a lot of comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 12:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14874048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinetyFiveFathoms/pseuds/NinetyFiveFathoms
Summary: Being chief of medicine of Sacred Heart isn’t easy even on a good day, and on a bad day, Perry finds it almost unbearable.  At the end of a particularly long, rough day, he comes home into the loving arms of his husband, Bob Kelso.





	Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely not the most in-character thing I've written, but by god I love this oneshot.

As I twisted my key in the lock, I heard the familiar, cheerful sounds of a squeaky toy, Boomer’s excited pattering across the hardwood floors of our house, and the joyful exclamations of my husband.  Somehow, it just exacerbated my negativity; they were the sounds of _home_ , the sounds of a safe and happy place, and they were at odds with my current feelings.

Worse, I could already feel myself ready to ruin Bob’s mood.  It wasn’t going to take much to snap me out of the façade I’d been wearing all day, and then his blissful mood from playing with our dog would be out the window.

It almost made me turn around, get back in my car, and leave the house.

But Bob had already heard the garage door, and I’d had to stay ri _dic_ ulously late at the damn hospital, so the fact that he was even still awake meant he’d waited up for me.

As if that didn’t fill me with enough guilt, he was right there, ready to greet me as I walked through the door, dressed-down for bed in his pajamas.

“Hi, darling,” he said, pecking me on the lips with just about the widest smile in the world.  “Sorry you had to stay so late.”

I reciprocated the kiss automatically, but my heart wasn’t in it; the look on his face positively filled me with warmth and _god_ , I just wanted to pull him in and hug him so tightly, because it had been too shitty a day.  But I was trying hard not to dump it all on him, so instead, I simply shrugged and grunted.  He looked at me with perplexment and concern, his bushy gray-brown eyebrows furrowing as his mouth turned downward sympathetically; his arm fell to his side, the squeaky toy in his hand falling with it.

“Bad day?”

“It’s almost midnight and I’m just getting home, _you_ do the math.”  It was _maddening_ , one of those _horrible_ moments where I could feel myself lashing out in a bad mood against somebody who, if anything, deserved my love all the more in light of the circumstances.  I watched as he flinched slightly, not acknowledging the tug on his arm as Boomer gnawed at the toy in his hand; Bob was more than used to this by now, and I _knew_ he was aware that I didn’t really mean it, but I hated myself even as I felt the clenching frustration and powerlessness override my desire to gently apologize.

“Please don’t get mad at me, Perry,” he softly insisted, his grip finally releasing the toy to our dog’s clutches.

“You’re right,” I agreed, but my tone resisted, agitation coloring it entirely.  “Let’s just not _do_ this tonight, okay?”

I dropped my bag on the floor and quickly dodged around Boomer, heading for the bedroom.

“That isn’t what I meant,” he disagreed as his bare feet padded along behind me, his voice remaining so delicate and soft that it nearly broke my heart.  “You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you need it.”

I sat down on the bed and pulled off my shoes before looking up at him; his eyes were tired, and in his light gray pajamas, he was the picture of domesticity.  I thought again of the happiness I’d heard before I walked through the door, and I looked down at the floor.

“Look,” I reasoned, trying hard to focus on calming my voice, “I’ve already brought my crap crashing down on you, and that’s not fair, since you’re not the asshole from the board who ruined my day.  I’m not going to do that to you.”

After a moment, I suddenly felt the bed sink as he sat down beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“‘For better, for worse,’ remember?” he said, his voice almost a whisper.  “I’d much rather you talk to me than just bottle it up and feel worse, sweetheart.”

I sighed—whether in resignation or comfort, I couldn’t be sure—and brushed my hands across my face, relenting.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.  I just—I just want to _help_ people, and at every turn, the board is yelling at me about something.  They just throw all this _bullshit_ bureaucratic nonsense at me and…” I stopped.  “This isn’t what I wanted.  I know you told me the chief job was like this right off the bat, but sometimes I just want… _out_.”

There was a noticeable pause, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bob bring his head to look directly at me.

“Do you want to quit?”

I instantly turned to him, incredulous.  “It doesn’t matter; I can’t.  I mean, what the hell else am I going to do to pay the bills?  Ask the board to demote me and go back to being an attending?”

“You could find something somewhere else,” he offered.  “Or…I mean, you’re so _tired_ , I hate to see you like this.  I could go back to work.”

“Abso _lute_ ly not,” I answered immediately.  “As if _you_ aren’t tired too.  As if you didn’t struggle through this exact hellhole for much, _much_ longer than I have, with _out_ somebody to guide you through it all.  Your retirement has been well-earned, I won’t lay that burden at your feet.”

He squeezed my shoulder gently.  “What about finding something else?”

“No, I don’t want to leave Sacred Heart,” I sighed, resigned to the frustrating impasse.  “God knows why, though,” I added bitterly.

“I think it makes sense, given your history there and your friends.”

I snorted.  “ _One_ friend, _sort_ of.”  In response to his quizzical look, I said, “Carla.”

“‘Sort of’?  You love Carla,” he countered, “not to mention Turkleton, and Dorian still comes to visit you plenty.”

“Carla,” I answered, “only seems to have time for the chief of medicine, when she needs a favor.  Gandhi is a pain in my ass, and Newbie visits his _boyfriend_ , not me.”

“You know that’s not true,” Bob said, his hand falling from my shoulder to my hands, lying clenched in my lap.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be saying it,” I replied, frustration entering my tone.  “Maybe I _should_ just leave.  Screw ‘em.”

“All right, no,” Bob insisted, grasping one of my hands, “I’m not going to let you spiral like this.  Carla _loves_ you, she’s just got her own stresses to deal with.  I don’t give a crap _what_ you say about Turkleton, if you took the stick out of your ass, you’d realize how much you two have in common.  And for _heaven’s sake_ , are you trying to tell me that the man who compiled that ri _dic_ ulous book of all your rants doesn’t positively _adore_ you?  Remind me, what was the dedication he wrote in it?”

“‘To the doctor who gave me everything, and wouldn’t even take a hug in return,’” I quoted reluctantly.  Of course I knew it by heart.  I had run my fingers over the indentations from the pen time and again, trying to process how the poor kid I’d pushed away for eight years could come back with a compilation of one of my tools of torture and still say that I’d given him everything.

Bob gave me a knowing, smug smile, and I couldn’t help but cede a small grin of my own.  “He _loves_ you, Perry.  If he and Turkleton weren’t so stupidly perfect for each other, I’d almost be worried about him trying to steal you away from me.”

“Then why,” I said, suppressing my grin, “has he practically ignored me the last few times he came by?”

I was answered with a raised eyebrow.  “Probably because you were doing the same?”

“That never stopped him for the first eight years.”

“Maybe he’s _tired_ , Perry,” Bob sighed at me.  “Maybe he’s given up on drawing affection out of you kicking and screaming.  If you _care_ about him, go _easy_ on the poor guy.  Not everyone has my iron will to meet insult with insult and still see the love behind all of it.”

Exhaling, I leaned my head back, letting my eyes rove toward the ceiling.

“Hey,” Bob encouraged, his fingers guiding my chin to look at him again, “c’mere.”

I leaned toward him as his arms wrapped around me, and I reciprocated the gesture; I let my head drop onto his shoulder, clenching my eyes shut, and I felt his grip tighten, pulling me closer.  I breathed gently as our chests pressed against each other, our movement stopping until all I could feel were his arms and his chest, his heartbeats and breaths fading into my own.

And suddenly, I was home.

“Listen,” he murmured so softly, his lips right at my ear, “it’s going to be okay.  The board is a bunch of jackasses and they’re not worth stressing over.  Hell, I’ll give them a piece of my mind if they’re not careful.”

I snorted again, holding my husband a little tighter in appreciation.

“But you have _so many people_ in your life who love and care about you.  If you _ever_ , at _any point_ , need our caring and support, all you need to do is _ask_ us and we’ll be right at your side.  Please don’t underestimate how loved you are.”

The knot in my stomach loosened slightly, and I finally pulled away, a mixture of lingering pain and ardent affection for my husband in my eyes.

Suddenly, amused indignance rushed to my brain as I processed his earlier words.

“You think I have a stick up my ass?”

He didn’t speak, but gave me a familiar, incredulous look.

“Okay, that’s…fair.  But Gandhi is just such a cocky, arrogant, self-obsessed—”

Bob cleared his throat pointedly; I looked at his smirking face, smiling against my will.  “Y’know, you’re teasing me an _aw_ ful lot after the day I’ve had.”

He leaned toward me, his lips pressing against mine as he continued to smile.  “Just giving you a sense of normalcy, dear.”

I gave him a responding smile in appreciation before my expression fell again, and his followed.

“Is there something else I can do for you, Perry?  I’m so sorry you’ve had such a rough day.”

“No, it’s fine, let’s just…get to bed,” I responded.  As I stripped down to my boxers, he walked through the rest of the house; I heard him click off lamps in the other room, twist the door lock, set the alarm, and then say goodnight to Boomer before wandering back in.

We both climbed into bed, turning off the lamps at our bedsides.  Laying next to Bob in the quiet darkness, I felt an ache in my chest, and his words flashed through my mind.

“Actually,” I whispered softly, turning to him “there is something.”

The sheets rustled as he turned, his questioning eyes looking back at me.  “What is it?”

 _All you need to do is ask_ , his reassurance echoed, and I pushed my fears away.

“Would it be all right if…” I trailed off, the sentence failing me.  I tried again, my voice uncharacteristically fragile as I spoke words vulnerable in a way I reserved only for my husband; “Would you mind holding me?  Please?”

His mouth twisted upward in a loving look that made my heart swell to twice the size.  “Of course, darling.”

I rolled over and felt his arm drape across my bare chest, holding me tightly as he pressed his body against me and his legs intermingled with mine.  My hand grasped at his upper arm, holding onto him like a lifeline.  I shut my eyes contentedly, feeling his warmth.

“Listen, Bob,” I said softly in a deep, rough voice.  “I’m real sorry that I got short with you.  You didn’t deserve that.”

“If anybody understands, Perry, it’s me,” he reassured.  “It really is a thankless job, and it’s so easy to get lost in that.”

“Still, I…I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you being so patient with me.  I know I’m not easy to deal with sometimes.”

“For every tense moment,” he breathed, “you give me a _thousand_ moments of happiness.  I appreciate you being mindful of that, but I love you, Perry, so much.  I want to make things easier for you.”

“I love you too, Bob,” I uttered with feeling, loosening my hold of his arm to gently stroke it with my fingertips.  “Thank you.”

After a moment, he spoke again.  “What’s tomorrow going to be like for you?”

I grimaced.  “I think it should be fine.  I’m just…sick of being looked at as chief of medicine alone.  I’m tired of feeling _used_ , like that’s my only purpose.”

“It isn’t,” Bob disagreed.  “You are a wonderful, ridiculous, _passionate_ man, with more compassion in your heart than anyone sees.  You—and I mean _you_ , Percival Ulysses Cox, not the chief of medicine or any other bullshit—are _everything_ to me, and nothing could change that.”

I ceased stroking his arm and moved my hand to his; I interlocked my fingers with his and squeezed his hand twice, unsure if I was capable of forming words to express my appreciation at this moment.

“I’ll tell you what,” Bob continued, squeezing my hand in return, “how about I go to the hospital with you tomorrow?  I can see the old gang and spend some time at Coffee Bucks.  We can get lunch together, and I can stick around in case you need anything.  Plus, I can give the board an earful if they give you any trouble.”

I swallowed, retreating further into my husband’s embrace, before I was finally able to speak.

“That’d be real good, Bob.”

“Everything will be fine, I _promise_ ,” he emphasized.  “Tomorrow will be better.”

As I heard the grandfather clock chime from across the house, I knew I could believe anything, as long as I was in his arms.


End file.
